


The Times Before

by Olos



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 14:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14875119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olos/pseuds/Olos
Summary: Snapshots of life in the Timeless Halls.





	The Times Before

I’m awake. I am now. I am being held, and I am safe.  
A Voice, above and yet all around, high and low and rich and comforting and everything speaks, and I listen.  
“Olórin, lead proudly, lead wisely, and above all else, lead lovingly, with pity and mercy, always.” What does The Voice mean? The words sound nice though.  
The thought gets into my head that The Voice is the one holding me. That makes sense, we are alone together as far as I can tell. It must be, then, that The Voice made me, as if we are the only two, and The Voice existed before me, The Voice must be my father.  
Ilúvatar. The word, or title, enters my head as if set there by someone else. Is it The Voice’s name? As good a name as any, Father of All.  
I am being lowered slowly, and Ilúvatar speaks again.  
“Go forth now, Olórin, and remember, raise not your hand til you have extended it.”  
Good idea, I’ll remember that.  
I’m on the ground now, set on my feet. My first action using my own body is to take a step or two, wobble, nearly fall over, but right myself, and walk on, until I stop, and look around.  
Ilúvatar and I are not the only ones. There are many others, most about my age, seemingly new formed, and a few older, confident, watching the younger.  
I want to join a group that’s near to me, playing games with marbles that’s watched by a beautiful older one. Varda, Vala states my mind, and I know the watcher is Varda, a Vala. The older folk are Valar, then. That’s good to know. There is another young one, like me, standing by Varda, clearly bonded to the Vala already.  
The sound of footsteps alerts me to a presence near at hand. It’s another young one, and considering the fact this new one walks away from Ilúvatar, hesitantly and almost shyly, this one is very new indeed.  
“Hello,” I say aloud, prompted by some custom or rule I don’t remember learning.  
“Hello,” replies the new one, righting face to be more closed, less shy and awed.  
“I am Olórin, who might you be?” I ask of the now smiling being in front of me.  
“My name is Curumo. Could I hope we can be friends?” Curumo says.  
Something in me doesn’t like the idea of being Curumo’s friend, I half have the urge to turn and run, deny my fellow young one a friend, but something stills me. Why should I deny one a friend?  
“Yes, Curumo, I hope we can.”


End file.
